What Survives of Us (Colorado Chapters Book 1) (5 page)

             
The man made a strangled sound and lowered the bat.  “Grace?” 

He stepped out of the shadows, and the looming man transformed into Quinn, just Quinn, just a sophomore punk.  He blinked over and over, staring, confused.  He swayed, and put a hand on the door jamb to steady himself.  “Grace?  Are you really here?”

              He was about to fall over, she realized.  “I’m really here.”  She walked over to him, took the bat and led him to the cleared spot at the table.  He just stood there until she pushed him into the chair.  “Are you alright?”

             
He gazed up at her with glassy eyes, and she reached out automatically to feel his forehead.  Cool.  “How long has it been since you’ve eaten?  Or slept?”

             
“I don’t know.  Slept a little this morning, I think.  Not hungry.”  His gaze dropped to his hands, avoiding hers.

             
“Well, you’ve got to eat something.”  She bustled into the pantry, grabbed peanut butter and graham crackers off the shelf.  Quinn kept staring at his hands while she found a plate, smeared some peanut butter on the crackers then set them in front of him.  “Here.  You need protein.  Get started.”  There was orange juice in the fridge, and she poured him a tall glass.  “Drink this first – your blood sugar is probably low, which might be making you feel nauseous.”

             
He obeyed her without raising his eyes, taking a long swallow of the juice, then starting on the crackers.  She watched his slow, robotic movements for a while, listening for any other sounds in the house.  Then, without speaking, she went to answer the question she couldn’t ask.

             
All of them.  Mr. and Mrs. Harris, the four little boys, and William.  All of them, dead in their beds.  She stood in William’s bedroom doorway, staring at his still face, and felt her brain split in two.

             
Part of her analyzed what she was seeing; she had just cared for her own family, and she could see Quinn’s Herculean efforts in the clean bedclothes, the washed faces, the neat rooms.  He must have worked around the clock.  No wonder he was on the verge of collapse.

             
And the other part of her brain howled.  Howled like a terrified, mortally wounded animal.

             
Grace shut William’s door and returned to the kitchen, where she found Quinn still staring.  He had finished the crackers and juice, and there were crumbs at the corner of his mouth.  Without speaking a word, Grace rinsed out a washcloth and matter-of-factly wiped his hands and face.  Then she helped him up and walked him into the living room.  Without being told, he curled up on the couch.  He was asleep before Grace had finished unlacing and removing his boots.  She draped an afghan over him, then sat and watched him sleep.

             
In so many ways, he was still a little boy.  His face was soft with youth, cheeks rounded with good health and brown with sunshine, sandy hair cut haphazardly.  Even his powerful arms seemed innocent and childlike, clutching a pillow to his chest.

             
The non-animal part of her brain catalogued these observations and coldly considered her options.  Having a dependent lessened her chances of survival.  Quinn had already spoken more words to her today than in all the other times she’d been around him put together.  She didn’t really know him, didn’t know what he was capable of, didn’t know what assets he would bring to an alliance.

             
Then she remembered the baseball bat and the meticulous care he had taken of his dying family.  Tears flooded her eyes, surprising her, and she ruthlessly blinked them back.  To start was never to stop.  Decision made, Grace headed to the kitchen to make herself something to eat and to start assessing their resources.

~~~

              Sometimes it was dark in Jack’s world, and sometimes everything spun in a kaleidoscope of colors that split his skull.  So hot, so cold.  He shifted restlessly, trying to draw in a deep breath of air, and gasped at the agony, daggers sliding between his ribs, freezing the muscles of his diaphragm with pain.  A firm hand lifted the back of his head, a rim pressed to his lips, and the tiny sip of cool liquid was like manna in the desert.

             
“He’s not going to make it if he can’t draw more air.”  The feminine voice was harried, a voice he vaguely recognized but didn’t have the energy to identify.

             
Another woman’s voice answered, one straight out of his own personal Hell.  “Tell me what to do for him.”

             
Jack’s eyes flew open.  She was standing above him, beautiful evil Jezebel, her arms raised to hold her disheveled hair off her neck.  That dark hair rose while he watched, writhed and slithered around her head, shiny black cobras.  He gasped and slammed his eyes shut, then his body was seized in the most violent fit of coughing he had ever experienced.

             
“Get him up – get him upright!”  Arms lifting, sitting him up.  He leaned forward, hacking, hacking, hacking until a liquid mass filled his throat and mouth.  He tasted copper, gagged, spat, spat again, then collapsed back.  The world was hazed red with pain.  Someone was sitting behind him, supporting him in a sitting position, and he leaned into the embrace, beyond caring who it belonged to.

             
“I’ll get some pillows – hold him there.”  A few quiet moments, then they were moving him again, more pain, the warm, soft body sliding out from behind him to be replaced by pillows that held him almost upright.

             
Harried voice spoke again, more compassionately this time.  “Keep him sitting up as much as possible, and do anything you can do to keep him breathing deeply.  Steam might help, a menthol rub, maybe a poultice – try onions, if you have them.  Keep him hydrated – get as much liquid in him as possible.  And…watch him.”

             
His siren’s voice sounded right beside his ear, luring him towards treacherous shores.  He wanted to turn towards it and he wanted to lunge away.  “Watch him?  What do you mean, watch him?”

             
Harried voice snapped defensively now.  “I can’t explain it, okay?  If you watch them, it just helps.  You asked how you could help him, and I’m telling you.”

             
“Okay.  Alright.  I’ll watch him – that makes sense.”  Soothing, apologetic, respectful.  She played that just right, he thought.  Just like I would have.  “I can’t thank you enough for coming.  You must be overwhelmed.”

             
“You have no idea.  I haven’t seen Dr. Derber in days, and I haven’t been able to reach him on his cell.”  The silence between the women was absolute for a few moments.  “I need to swing by his house.  See what’s…what.”

             
“Blessings on you, and on the work you’re doing.  I’m asking for angel’s wings to wrap around you, to comfort and support you.”

Jack almost worked up the energy to sneer at that, but not quite.

“Yeah.  Angel’s wings.”  Harried’s voice was wry.  “I’d trade an army of angels for one more medical professional.  Do your best to keep him among the living, okay?  We’re going to need him on the other side of this mess.”

~~~

              Twenty-one days.  Naomi counted again, then again.  She was sitting on the deck, soaking in sunshine, with Macy’s old baby monitor plastered to her ear.  Over the hiss and pop of static, she could hear every deep, clear breath Macy took.  Clear. 
Clear
.

             
She had lost track of dates when Scott got sick, and if you’d held a gun to her head, she couldn’t have even approximated a guess.  Weeks?  How many?  But as Macy had slowly, slowly improved, Naomi had finally dared to hope.  She wanted to count days.

             
All the TV channels were broadcasting “No Signal,” and it took over an hour of painstaking searching and holding the radio in strange positions to finally get a channel in clear enough to hear.  She jury-rigged an antenna of wire and aluminum foil, then carried the radio out to the deck with her desk calendar.

             
She listened for a while, disappointed to realize what she had picked up was a repeating public-service announcement rather than a live broadcast.  The man’s voice droned through a list of instructions on what to do if you were stricken with the plague, then summarized the disease’s progress world-wide.  As of the current broadcast, the United States had lost contact with Great Britain and several other European countries.  Germany was reporting 99-100% fatality rates, as was China.  India had gone silent.  Finally, he concluded.

             
“You are listening to this announcement on the Emergency Broadcast System.  The date is,” he paused, and a female, computerized voice took over, giving the current year, followed by “April 28.”

             
Naomi was startled.  Had it really been that long?  She crossed the days off on the calendar as she counted.  Twenty-two days since Scott had died.  Twenty-one days since Macy got sick.  The significance of that number made her heart pound.  According to the reports they had heard, Macy had survived eleven days longer than any other plague victim.  Macy had
survived.

             
She tipped her head back to stare at the sky.  So blue, so clear.  And quiet.  She had never known such quiet.  Naomi felt her awareness expand to encompass the outside world for the first time in weeks.  No distant rush of traffic, no sirens, nothing.

Her focus had been complete:  Macy’s breath, Macy’s temperature, liquid in, waste out, bathe her, tend her, soothe her.  She had hardly spared the animals a glance, aware of only one other thing:  the link to Piper she felt in her chest.  She felt it there now, a fullness, next to the gaping emptiness that was Scott, next to the fierce death-grip she had on Macy.  She laughed a little, sadly, at the thought.  Truly, she had a new understanding of that expression now.  She had spent the last 21 days standing between her daughter and Death.

She closed her eyes, and felt her oldest daughter, her warrior girl, vibrating with life, there in her heart.  She was alive.  She would stake her own life on it.  “Piper,” she whispered.  “Piper, my girl, my fierce girl.  I’ll find you.  Somehow, I’m going to find you.”

              There were times, Piper would swear, she could feel her mother’s presence.  It was the strangest thing.  Distracting.  And given her current circumstances, being distracted was dangerous.

             
Piper forced her back up straighter against the wall she was leaning on and lifted her chin.  Thinking about her family was not an option; homesickness knocked the wind right out of her, and looking vulnerable was dangerous as well.  Cool confidence, she reminded herself, as she watched people trickle into the mess hall for lunch.  You are strong and capable.  Polite, but remote.  Untouchable.  She hadn’t figured out all the nuances of the social hierarchy here yet, but she was crystal clear on one fact:  There would be no easy resolution to the problems and tensions plaguing this group.

             
She and Noah had arrived here three weeks ago.  They had been some of the last kids to leave UNC’s campus; Piper didn’t have a concrete plan, and Noah didn’t want to leave until she did.  When she lost contact with her family and it became obvious the plague was going to spread, Noah offered an option she preferred to heading to her family’s cabin alone.

             
“My dad and my brother, they’re, well, they’re…” He had trailed off, rubbed the back of his neck, then continued in an embarrassed rush.  “They’re survivalists, okay?  They have a compound in the mountains, just outside of Walden.  We can go there and see what’s going to happen, wait this thing out.”

             
The information gave her pause, but turning down his offer under the current circumstances would be the height of stupidity.  “I would appreciate that, truly,” she had said.  “I can meet my folks at Carrol Lakes later, if it comes to that.  And my dad’s a prepper, so I doubt your dad or your brother will seem all that strange to me.”

             
“Uh…”  Noah’s face had pinched, then flushed dull red.  “Please don’t tell either one of them that.  They have some pretty strong opinions about their lifestyle.  They think anyone who doesn’t live like they do, or doesn’t prepare to the extent they have, are morons.  ‘Arm Chair Survivalists’ and ‘Mall Ninjas,’ they call them.  It’s why I don’t go home much.”              

They had packed up and headed out the day after the announcement that the plague had become a pandemic.  Piper had racked her brain for a way to get a message to her folks about where she was going, and eventually just ended up leaving the information written on the mirrors in her dorm room with a permanent marker.  Noah had balked at leaving the exact address – there was more survivalist in him than he wanted to admit – but had agreed to the general information “South-east of Walden.”  How that would lead her folks to her, Piper had no earthly clue, but at the time it hadn’t been worth arguing over.  She would join them in Colorado Springs if this blew over, or they would join her at the cabin if it didn’t.

It had taken them two days to make the 130-plus mile trip, what with Noah’s determination to not arrive empty-handed.  He had insisted on stopping at every single grocery or drug store en-route, even the tiniest hole-in-the-wall dives – there wasn’t much food left by then, but he had cleaned out anything left on the shelves, even feminine sanitary supplies.

             
“For trade,” he had told her without a trace of embarrassment.  “After the plague burns itself out.”

             
Noah’s brother Levi had met them at the entrance of what had once been a campground, and was now a compound housing one family – Noah’s sister Jenny, her husband and their three kids – and a half dozen individuals hand-selected and invited by their father to be a part of the group.  Levi stayed well back from their vehicle as he informed them they wouldn’t be allowed in until he was sure they weren’t carrying the plague.  He had obviously been less than pleased to see Piper, as well.

             
“Did you clear this with Dad?”  His words were directed at Noah, but his eyes never left Piper’s face.  Cold, cold eyes.  Holding his gaze had been both uncomfortable and difficult, but she made herself do it anyway.  She knew when she was being measured.

             
“No.  I haven’t been able to reach him – cell service has been pretty much non-existent.  That’s why I brought Piper – her folks are in Colorado Springs, and she hasn’t been able to connect.”

             
Finally, Levi’s gaze moved to his brother.  “So you haven’t talked to Dad since when?”

             
“Monday morning.  As soon as they announced the plague had left the Springs, nobody could get through to anybody.”  Noah must have read something in his brother’s demeanor, because his eyes narrowed.  “Why?  What aren’t you telling me?”

             
“Dad’s sick.”  Levi didn’t stall or try to soften the announcement.  “He started running a fever Tuesday night.  We thought we got everyone out of town and locked down in time, but we didn’t.  Jenny’s youngest has it, too – little Karleigh.”  Levi dropped his head then, so Piper wasn’t sure whether she’d seen a flash of emotion or not.

             
“How bad is it?  I mean Jesus, Levi, he’s tough as hell.  I can’t imagine…”

             
“It’s bad.  Jenny’s taking care of them both, with Ruth and a few others spelling her.  Ruth’s got us wearing masks and gloves, the works.  So far, no one else has any symptoms, but we have to wait and see.  We should know in 2 or 3 days.  They’re saying the incubation on this thing is anywhere from 1 to 6 days, but Sanders thinks we should give it at least two weeks.”

             
“Brody Sanders?  He’s here?”  When Levi nodded, Noah blew out a breath, his face tight with tension.  “And he’s what – in charge while Dad is sick?”

             
“Something like that.”  Levi’s eyes were cold, cold again.  “For the time being, anyway.”

             
“Fantastic.”  Noah muttered under his breath.  “Alright, so as of right now, we’re quarantined.  Where are we staying?”

             
“That depends.  Do you need one bed or two?”

             
It took a minute for the implication to sink in, then Noah blushed scarlet and Piper leaned to speak to Levi for the first time.  “Two beds.”  No embellishment or elaboration necessary.

             
Levi’s eyes shifted back and forth between them for a moment, then he frowned and shook his head.  “This is trouble Noah.  It would be better if she were already spoken for.  Think about that while you guys are twiddling your thumbs for the next 14 days.”  He pointed down the right fork in the two-track.  “Head down to cabin six.  You’ll have to pump your water and there’s no electricity, but there’s a wood-burning stove and plenty of wood stacked outside.  Outhouse is right behind the cabin.  Do you need food?”

Noah’s face was still burnished with embarrassment.  “We’re good for a day or two.”

“We’ll drop off supplies on the edge of the clearing tomorrow, along with a walkie-talkie.  If either of you get sick, let us know.  I’ll keep you posted on Dad.”

And without so much as a goodbye or another glance in Piper’s direction, he turned and walked up the left fork in the two-track.  Piper watched him go, then turned to look at Noah. 

“’Spoken for?’”  She didn’t need to ask if Levi had been serious.

“I’m sorry.”  He wouldn’t look at her, focusing instead on bumping along the rugged two-track.  They passed several cabins, numbered in reverse order:  Eight, seven, then six.  Noah pulled up close to the door, then shut the engine off and stared at the steering wheel for a moment.  The cooling engine ticked in the silence.

“Piper, I’m sorry.  Best-case scenario, this is just a short-term situation.  We’ll get you connected with your folks, and figure out how to get you to them.”  He looked at her finally, and his grim expression made the hair on the back of her neck prickle.  “But just in case that’s not how it works out, I should fill you in on the group dynamics.  I’m not sure who all is here, but I’m pretty sure they’re not your kind of people.”

Piper frowned.  “Meaning what, exactly?  That I’m a snob?”

“No.”  Noah gave her an impatient look.  “That’s not what I meant, and you know it.  They’re not my kind of people, either.  Look, let’s unload and settle in.  We’ve got two weeks to fill, and explaining this could take most of ‘em.”

The next day, following the delivery of their promised supplies, Noah had used the walkie-talkie to both check on his father and ask Levi for a complete list of the compound’s current inhabitants.  Noah’s father was still alive, but reading that list had returned the grim look to his face.

“Except for Jenny and her husband, all of these people are military or former military.  Army and Marines, mostly, three of them special forces.  And besides Jenny, there’s only one other woman – Ruth Mitchell.  She’s a medic, did tours in Iraq, Afghanistan, Syria and Pakistan.  She put in 30 years before she got out.  I know her pretty well – she’s alright.  But some of these guys…”  His voice trailed off and he shook his head wearily.  “I’m not sure what Dad was thinking.  This is a real testosterone fest - so many alpha males living together is bound to cause problems.”

“Is that why Levi said it would be better if I were ‘spoken for?’”

“Yeah.”  Noah looked miserable.  “Look, we can still hope this will just be short term.  Have you tried your folks lately?”

“No signal.  And my cell is just about dead.”  Piper went for a reassuring tone, not sure if she was trying to comfort Noah or herself.  “I grew up in Colorado Springs, Noah – Fort Carson, Peterson Air Force Base, NORAD, the Air Force Academy.  It’s not like I haven’t been around people in the military.”

“I know.  But you knew them from a civilian perspective, in non-combat conditions.  This is different.  We may not think of this as a war, but you can damn sure bet they do.”

“True.  So.”  Piper took a deep breath.  “Let’s talk about the contingency plan, then.  Say I’m going to be here a while.  Should we present ourselves as a couple?”

Noah looked up swiftly, analyzing.  Softly, he asked, “In name only?”

“Yes.”  She would not insult him with an apology.

Noah masked whatever he was feeling so completely, she couldn’t read even a hint.  The trait made him a hell of a poker player.  “That might work in the short term, but not for any length of time.  It’s too easy to tell when a couple is intimate, when they’re fighting, stuff like that.”  He grinned suddenly.  “Remember?”

Piper laughed.  “In our dorm, freshmen year!  We used to bet on who was hooking up and who was holding out.  I had forgotten all about that.”

Noah snorted with disdain.  “Of course you forgot – I won the contest, and you never paid up.”

“You did not win!  We couldn’t get confirmation on half of them, and even if one of your boys blabbed, there was no guarantee it wasn’t just big talk!”

“You are one sore loser, Piper Allen.  C’mon, admit it – I was better than you at reading the situation.”

             
Piper cocked her head to the side as she remembered another detail.  “You used to say it was because you watched your older brother.  You could always tell when he had scored with one of his girlfriends.”

             
Noah winced.  “I probably should have kept that to myself.  Could get awkward.  But seriously,” he sighed.  “Pretending to be a couple is a bad idea.  Some of these guys just don’t respect social norms and boundaries.  If they thought they had a chance with you, they’d push me to defend you.  I can hold my own in a bar fight, but these guys are trained in hand-to-hand.  I don’t want to go there.”

             
“I don’t blame you, but I do need to point out that I’m completely capable of defending myself.”  Piper raised her eyebrows.  “You’ve been in a bar fight?”

             
“Growing up with Levi was a bar fight, day in and day out,” Noah said ruefully.  “He wanted to be sure his little brother could protect himself, or so he said.  And yes, I’ve been in exactly one bar fight.”

             
“Did you win?”

             
“I don’t want to talk about it.”

             
“Which means you lost.”  Piper smirked until Noah looked up.  His face was dark with regret.

             
“No, I won.  It made me sick to my stomach.  It’s not like the movies - it’s ugly.  And embarrassing.”  Noah stared into a middle space, gaze unfocused.  “Levi used to tell me I wasn’t a fighter by nature, so I had to watch out.  If I get pushed over that line, I lose control of myself.  I don’t even remember a lot of the fight – my friends told me later that I pounded on the guy until his face was just mushy pulp.  The cops broke it up, but I don’t remember that either.”

             
“I’m sorry.  It sounds awful.”  Piper reached out to squeeze his shoulder, and laughed a little.  “I guess we’re opposites in that respect – my mom says I was born to brawl.  When I was little, she had to bribe the neighborhood kids with cookies to get them to play with me.  I was always slugging someone.”

             
“Yeah, not me.  If I never have to be in a physical fight again, I’ll be happy.”  He paused, searching for words.  “I felt like I lost myself – like I had been taken over by someone I didn’t like and couldn’t control.  My friends were all like, “Dude, that was awesome!’ and I just wanted to hide somewhere and puke.”